the destroyer > cheap papers > Meagan Lehr

GIVE MY DAUGHTER THE SHOT!!! (& THE MOVIE QUEEN LATIFAH HAS ‘SEEN A MILLION TIMES’>>>>)

National Geographic women taught grief like this—

Death becomes her—this bitch is amazing. Sicilian widow gothic voyeur fashion maven drag repent. This is no ordinary chick, so there’s a lot to live up to when tragedy hits. Gloss pics as felt stuff—deathbeds become luxurious opportunities. D&G on the Sicilian widow look—

Chick fillets teach us how to die. Chick flix die incredible deaths. Unbelievable even, to the perfect audience. Ridiculous even, obnoxious even. Perfect audience: grieve now. Mixing the Sicilian widow and the chick flick, Cher is the ultimate wisdom—the caption—

ALL KNOWING SASS. What death does to a woman. Loretta’s no mother, her first husband was hit by a bus. In exchange she gets young hot Nicholas Cage. Grieve and drink and cheat and make bread together, the Italian American glut. What sex with death. How glamorous we are next to death. That’s widows—pop does mothers of dying children more pronounced crazy (sassy too). Strong Southern ladies obsessed with their babies. Debutant flaunt (flirt) with passing. End of life decisions made through lilted drawls—

--Steel Magnolias, however, was traipsing across my TV today and the chick-flick pull was way too strong, it was like an uncontrollable avalanche of X chromosomes, ack!

--Ngl, dunno why Julia was nominated, that horse face can not act her way out of a paper bag.

--I will tell you Sally Field is one of my all time favorite actresses. It does not seem to matter what she plays she disappears and what is left is the character. That movie had me rolling WHEEZY and Crying!

--My mom took me to see Steel Magnolias at the movies back when I was young.

First time I remember feeling really self conscious and trying not to bawl my eyes out at a movie in public lol.

--Shamed me for life - ha ha - now I try and reserve the chick flicks for home viewing only.

--< sniffles >

Queen Latifah’s favorite scene:

Chicks in flicks die gorgeous martyred deaths—mourning mothers are horror visions.

Let go like M’Lynn. Preferably in the cemetery when it’s humid. Southern ladies feel more than anyone else in America (Sicily is a different place). You’re not a mother if the grief is any different. Not an earnest mother without hairspray. Not a real mother if your daughter isn’t sick and you have to protect her. Not a good mother if you don’t freak out when your daughter is sick. Not a believable mother if you don’t go nuts at her deathbed, funeral, or simply at the idea of her dying. It’s simple. You yell or else who the fuck? Dammit Shelby, just open your eyes. The breathing tube is really doing a number on the audience.

(The breathing tube really adds to the audience’s sad experience—this is good felt stuff.)

--Between this movie and Terms of Endearment, I personally blame Shirley MacLaine for starring in the two most tear jerking movies of my early life.

Our traumas are more dramatic because of hospital images from the movies.

Our grief is more dramatic because of hospital images from the movies. Our trauma requires a cannula. Our trauma really requires some soft Kleenex.

Grief just did not exist before this—

Fuck M’Lynn. Her daughter had kidney failure and a consciousness. Fuck Aurora. Her daughter had breast cancer and a flip flap hubby, plus three kids. Can’t prove a thesis because of the pain, but pop fails at death & dying. Sicilian widows really look like this—